


Bet

by BrokenBones (Hikarinimichitasora)



Series: One Shots and Writing Prompts [14]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikarinimichitasora/pseuds/BrokenBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’re full of shit, Kirk," Cupcake says and Jim has to agree, he pretty much is. He usually just doesn’t get called on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Mckirk Prompt: High School AU! where Jim is popular kid and Bones is nerd. Jim bets on with Cupcake that he will date nerd!Bones for a week and later he will break his heart, but Jim falls in love with Bones.

"You’re full of shit, Kirk," Cupcake says and Jim has to agree, he pretty much is. He usually just doesn’t get called on it.

"I’ll prove it. I’ll date anyone you pick and I bet I can get them into bed within a week," he boasts. Cupcake gets an evil look in his eye and Jim realises his big mouth has got himself into trouble again.

"Anyone? How about  _that_  one?” he points and Jim follows his finger to a senior sat by himself on one of the cafeteria benches. He has a biology text book propped open in front of him and he’s absently eating an apple.

"McCoy?" Jim repeats, hoping that Cupcake is kidding. Cupcake just grins at him and nods. Jim takes a deep breath.

"If I do this, I get to drive your car to school for like three weeks," Jim says. Cupcake scowls at him. "What? It’s got to be worth something otherwise it’s not a bet!"

"Yeah well, if you lose-"

"I have to sleep with McCoy to win this bet. That’s punishment enough isn’t it?" Jim protests. Hendorff just looks smug.

* * *

 

Jim shares three classes with McCoy: Science, Debate and Philosophy. He doesn’t intend to waste any time presented in those classes. He settles down next to him in Biology after glaring at McCoy’s usual partner long enough that they took the hint and moved. McCoy barely acknowledges him, just getting his things out of his bag and placing them on the desk.

Jim proudly puts his pen on the desk and declares himself done.

"Can we share your textbook? I haven’t got mine," he says. McCoy shoves the textbook between them without a word. It looks pristine, unlike Jim’s own which is considerably rattier.

"Wow. You keep your stuff really neat," he says, for lack of anything else to comment on. McCoy sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. Jim takes a moment to look at him. Of all the people Hendorff could have picked, there were worse looking people. In fact, with a less severe side parting and without the dorky glasses, McCoy could probably be called handsome.

"Let me try on your glasses," Jim demands. McCoy actually turns to him then, single eyebrow creeping up his hairline in a way that Jim only wishes he could do.

"No. I need them to see the board," McCoy says. Jim reaches forward and snags them off his face anyway. McCoy crosses his arms, frowning at him in a way that actually  _does_  seem rather menacing.

Jim is right. Without the glasses, McCoy isn’t half bad. Jim slips them onto his own face, waiting for the world to become blurry. It doesn’t though. McCoy remains perfectly in focus, so does the classroom. He takes them off, handing them back.

"You’re right. You’d never be able to see the board without those," he says. McCoy puts them back on, shifting in his seat so he’s a little further away than he was before.

"Why’d you wear them if you don’t need them?" Jim asks. "Because trust me, they aren’t doing you any favours."

McCoy stays silent for a minute and Jim despairs he’s going to answer. Just as the teacher walks in though, McCoy takes off the glasses and folds them, putting them down carefully on the table.

"It’s to keep assholes like you from coming and talking to me."

The rest of the lesson is spent with Jim cursing Hendorff to high heaven for landing him with  _this_  particular mission.

* * *

Debate is far more eventful. He sits next to McCoy again, who seems to grudgingly accept his presence. The glasses are back on and Jim thinks that maybe they’re starting to grow on him a little.

They’re paired together, simply because of the proximity they’re in, and they work on opposing sides to an argument that Jim has no personal opinion on. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s not going to lose an argument. It seems like McCoy isn’t either though, because at the end, they’re seriously debating the merits of their own assigned viewpoints.

When the bell goes, it seems to come as a shock to McCoy and he quickly shoves his things into his bag. Jim tries to continue the argument, pushing forward with a point that he’d been trying to make when class ended.

"Look, I don’t want to be rude and yes, I’m impressed you’re not some dumb idiot, but do you  _want_  something? Because right now, I’m confused as to why you’re suddenly talking to me,” McCoy interrupts him. Jim blinks. McCoy’s body language is defensive and his eyes hold a strange mix of resentment, annoyance and a creeping hope.

Jim realises that McCoy’s eyes are hazel.

"I just thought you looked like you needed a friend," he replies. McCoy scoffs.

"You thought wrong, Kirk," he says and shoulders his bag, walking quickly away. Jim watches him go, wondering what on earth he did that was so offensive.

* * *

He finds out the next day. He’s skipping Math, mostly because he can already pass that course with his eyes closed, partly because Spock is in there, and he can’t stand that guy.

He slips into the bathroom to avoid a teacher patrol, sliding into a cubicle and locking the door behind him. He waits for a while, back to the door, wondering if hanging out in a bathroom is somehow worse than attending class. Then he hears it, a sniff followed by the sound of spitting. He pulls a disgusted face, opening the stall door to tell whoever it is to not be so disgusting.

He doesn’t expect to see McCoy stood over the sink. Water is dripping off his face, but it’s pink tinged and Jim can see a red smear on his upper lip. His glasses are lying in pieces by the tap and there’s a bruise forming on his cheek.

When he sees Jim he groans and leans forward to splash his face again.

"What the fuck happened?" Jim demands, grabbing tissue and handing it to McCoy. The other boy takes it, dabbing at his nose tenderly.

"Nosebleed," he replies. Jim glances at the glasses on the sink.

"Bullshit," he calls. McCoy sighs.

"Your buddies are really great people. They really like it when you have new friends," McCoy retorts. He puts the tissue down and feels along his own nose. "At least they didn’t break it."

"McCoy I had no idea…" Jim begins but McCoy turns to him, eyes flashing with anger.

"You had no idea your friends aren’t nice people? Really Jim?" he asks and it surprises Jim to hear himself referred to that way. McCoy had only ever called him Kirk before.

"When they throw eggs at people? When they scratch up people’s cars for fun? When they put signs on people’s lockers saying all kinds of things about their sexual preferences? You think that they were going to draw a line with beating someone up?" McCoy rants and Jim glances at the door. They’re going to get caught in here unless McCoy keeps his voice down.

"I never really thought about it," he whispers and he takes the tissue from the side and reaches forward. McCoy flinches but Jim is gentle as he wipes the other’s face clean. He needs an ice pack really, and probably a painkiller, but Jim only has tissue paper and water to work with so he does his best.

He finally scoops up the broken glasses and looks at them. They’re snapped in the middle and Jim is pretty sure there’s no way to easily fix them without sellotape and the inevitable mocking that will cause.

"I’m sorry," he says, holding out the broken frames. McCoy shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

"You didn’t do this," he replies and then he straightens his spine and looks Jim in the eye for the first time.

"You really want to be my friend?" McCoy asks, and his voice seems small. Jim looks down at the broken glasses in his hands. His resolve firms.

"Yeah. Yeah I really do."

* * *

That afternoon Jim walks McCoy home. He’s not surprised to find that McCoy’s home is nice, large with a white picket fence. On the mailbox it has the names of his parents - Dr D. McCoy and Mrs E. McCoy.

"Your dad’s a doctor?" Jim asks. McCoy nods and pushes open the gate, holding it open for Jim to slip through.

"Yeah. I want to be one too someday," he replies. "And I’m damn good at science and everything, but it takes a lot of work to get the grade average all the same."

Jim couldn’t  _really_  relate to that, having been identified as gifted in almost every subject. Then again, even though McCoy spent an inordinate amount of time studying, he didn’t seem like he was the kind who needed to. Perhaps he was harder on himself than he needed to be?

"What type of doctor?" Jim asks and McCoy smiles at him as he leads him up the steps to the front door.

"A surgeon," he replies. Jim whistles as he’s let into the house.

"A sawbones then, huh?" he says, mainly because it’s something to say. McCoy shrugs and kicks off his shoes. Jim follows suit. McCoy’s house is as nice inside as out, though it feels empty.

"You want anything to drink or eat?" McCoy offers.

"Nah, it’s alright, Bones," he says. The nickname rolls easily off his tongue and McCoy looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

"Bones?" he repeats. Jim smirks.

"Yup. Bones," Jim says smugly. McCoy doesn’t seem to know what to make of the nickname and instead leaves Jim in the entrance hall while he disappears for a moment. He returns with an ice pack held against his face and gestures for Jim to follow him upstairs.

Bones’ room is like most teenage boys rooms, Jim supposes. It’s perhaps a little neater than expected, but there are still a few plates lingering in corners. There’s a games system in the corner and some FPS game discs lying on a few surfaces. The bed isn’t made but the room doesn’t smell musty. The only difference between Bones’ room and the rooms of Jim’s friends is the posters on the walls.

There aren’t scantily clad women or bands or video game posters. Instead there are posters of anatomy, medical terms and strange charts that Jim can’t make head nor tail of.

"Nice room," he says and sits awkwardly on the bed. Bones shrugs and turns his computer on. The last thing he was doing pops up on the screen, Facebook and iTunes popping open. Soon the room is filled with classic rock tunes that Jim hadn’t been expecting.

It seemed Bones was full of surprises.

* * *

The next three days pass in a blur for Jim. He spends a lot of it with Bones. People start to talk but Jim ignores it. He is beginning to realise that he  _really_  likes Bones. The boy is easy to talk to, intelligent and passionate about the things he enjoys.

They go shopping for new glasses on one of the days and Jim picks up a pair for himself, grinning through the square lenses while Bones laughs at how dorky he looks.

Jim meets Bones’ mother, who is charming and beautiful, and his father, who is stern and traditional. He eats freshly prepared pie at their house and takes some home with him to have as a midnight snack.

And he starts to feel like the asshole Bones accused him of being.

The thing was, it was one thing to pick Bones out of a crowd of people and say that  _this_  was the one he was going to humiliate. But it was an entirely different thing to actually do it.

The closer they get the more Jim realises that the people he is currently calling friends, aren’t actually that close. On Wednesday he is given the choice of sitting next to Bones or his old friends in the cafeteria and he was relieved that the bet meant he could avoid them.

Friday morning comes round and Jim slips into science, sitting in his seat next to Bones and waiting for the other to arrive. The teacher arrives but Bones does not. Jim starts to get worried.

Fifteen minutes into the period, Bones appears, slipping through the door and not meeting Jim’s eyes. Jim waits until the teacher’s back is turned to elbow Bones in the ribs and quiz him on where he’s been.

He’s surprised when Bones turns round in his seat, draws back a hand and punches him. Three people are immediately on Bones, holding him back, and Jim cups his jaw, staring up at him with wide eyes.

 _Bones knows_.

"I can explain, I swear to god," Jim says but Bones snarls at him. The teacher is coming over now, trying to get through the crowd.

"What happened here?" the teacher demands. Jim can see someone opens their mouth to snitch, but he clears his throat.

"I fell off my chair, sir," he says. The teacher takes in the murderous look on Bones’ face, the way he’s being held back by other students, and the burgeoning bruise on Jim’s jaw, but he shakes his head.

"Everyone sit down," he says. "Kirk, McCoy, you’ve landed yourself in Saturday detention."

Bones sits down, pulling his chair as far away from Jim as he can get without moving to a new desk and Jim miserably delves into his own bag to get his own textbook.

It’s only been 5 days, it shouldn’t mean so much that Bones suddenly hates him, but he feels a pang in his chest that makes it hurt to breathe and he’s pretty sure it’s not about losing his Saturday to detention.

* * *

Saturday morning Jim rolls into detention in the cafeteria and sits down. The roll call is read and Jim sees Bones slumped over one of the desks. After roll call the teacher hands them what looks like a wallpaper scraper.

"Clean the gum off the desks," she orders and Jim groans. This is his least favourite of detention tasks. He still doesn’t argue and takes the scraper, going to find a classroom where he can sit by himself for the next hour without someone catching him.

Thirty minutes in and he has a pile of gum he isn’t going to touch without medical grade latex gloves and he’s bored beyond belief. The door opens.

Bones is stood there, scraper in hand. He sees Jim and his expression darkens.

"Hey, asshole, you’re supposed to put the gum in the bin," he says. Jim grits his teeth.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be here scraping gum off the desks if some  _asshole_  hadn’t punched me in class because his  _feelings_  got hurt,” he replies. Bones’ eyes flash with anger, but at least he’s not ignoring him. Jim is pretty sure this is the definition of self-destructive behaviour though.

"Fuck you," Bones hisses. "I was starting to trust you. Thinking that maybe, just  _maybe,_ you weren’t the complete and utter dick that everyone else makes you out to be. Guess I was an idiot or something, because you’re even  _worse_  than I thought. And seriously, I thought that fucking me would be worth more than driving a car for a few days. I mean, something that terrible? Surely you should have just been given the goddamn car?!”

Jim throws the scraper down onto the desk and rounds on Bones, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling.

"Listen to me. It started like that, alright? I was a dick, an asshole, a fucking moronic imbecile, but you know what? I realised pretty early on that I wasn’t hanging around with you to win a goddamn  _bet_. I was doing it because  _I like you_ ,” Jim hisses and he realises how true those words are as they fly through his lips. “God fucking damnit, I  _like_  you.”

Bones is staring at him, stunned and then suddenly Bones’ lips are on his and they’re kissing, hard and breathless. Jim doesn’t let go of the front of Bones’ shirt and Bones drops his own spatula to grab Jim’s hips and pull him closer.

"I’m not sleeping with you, Jim," Bones says when they break away for air. Jim smiles.

"It’s alright. I think I’d rather we took it slow in any case," he replies. Bones stoops to pick up his scraper and sighs.

"You’re going to lost the bet," he says. Jim shrugs.

"I can live with that. I think I’ve won in the way that matters," he wiggles his eyebrows as he says it. Bones tries to hide his smile.

"You’re a pain in my ass already," he says and Jim laughs.

"Don’t complain, nerd. You’re automatically cool now you’re dating me," he says. Bones groans.

"I’m going to have to buy new clothes and actually bother with my appearance now aren’t I?" he asks. Jim reaches forward, running a hand through Bones’ hair, mussing it from the neat lines into something not better, just different.

"Don’t you change anything," he says. Bones beams at him and Jim guesses that this was worth Saturday detention for.

* * *

"So you lost the bet… There’s only one thing for it, Kirk. Underpants," Hendorff holds his hand out. Jim groans and glances at Bones, who is sat a safe distance away, reading. He knew this was going to be a penalty, but he somehow didn’t expect it to come about so soon.

He closes his eyes and pulls his pants down. He knows people are stopping to stare as he kicks off his jeans, kicks off his underpants while carefully trying to cover the goods, and pulls his jeans back on.

Hendorff proudly hangs Jim’s underpants next to the school flag, and he has another Saturday detention for indecent exposure. It’s all worth it though when Bones drags him into the bathroom during math to make the most of the fact he’s going commando today.


End file.
